


dear love of mine

by fanfiction_trashpile



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bridgerton AU, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Female Reader, General kink, Regency, Slow Burn, Talk of sickness, Title Kink, dead dad, discussion of sex in the context of the 1810s, everyone is unreliable, i feel like i should take slightly inaccurate regency? it's mostly for the aesthetic, i love them but theyre all dumb, like actually dont trust any of the characters, no y/n, reader has a last name (Dean), regency au, regency except the women have character and drive and personality, will add tags as the series progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28806594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfiction_trashpile/pseuds/fanfiction_trashpile
Summary: The last thing you wanted was to fall in love. That was your sisters’ job, to marry and have a small army of children for your mother to dote on. But when the man courting your eldest sister brings a mysterious guest to stay with your family for the summer, you may not have a say in the matter.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Reader, Poe Dameron/You
Comments: 18
Kudos: 43





	1. enchanted

You sat at the window, looking down at the long drive that led up to your estate. Lord Barnes was supposed to arrive before lunch and, though your stomach rumbled, you didn’t take your eyes off the horizon.

“You’re almost more nervous than I am.” Ana called.

You blinked quickly to allow your eyes a moment to adjust from the bright light outside to the dim interior of her room. Your sister stood in the doorway, her hair glinting in the sunlight. Her blue dress complimented her features and, even without the sun, you were sure she would have been glowing.

“You remember that I’m the one he’s courting, right?” Her slippered feet whispered against the floor as she crossed the room, hopping up into the window seat across from you.

“Of course I remember.” You flailed your leg out, striking her in the shin with your foot. “It’s only the happiest day of my dear sister’s life.”

She tossed a scrap of paper into your lap. On it, scrawled in a neat print, was yet another declaration of love from the strapping Lord Barnes for your sister.

You read aloud, “ _My dearest, Ana, how I do miss your gaze. The stars here are truly incomparable, having seen your eyes—_ Is this what men think is charming?!”

She snatched the paper from your hands. “ _I_ think it’s charming!”

As you laughed, you snorted, sending her into a fit of giggles right alongside you.

“I really do think he’s going to propose this time, Ana. And you know I’m happy for you.”

The summer prior, Lord Barnes had been in town on business, settling assets after the tragic death of his father. To distract himself from his mourning, he had begun going door to door, learning the names of the people who lived in the county he had so suddenly inherited.

Ana had not stopped talking about him since and, if his letters were any indication, he was just as charmed as she was.

“Of course I know that.” She turned around, flopping herself back into your lap. “You also know that by my marrying Lord Barnes, I’m helping you secure a suitable match.”

“A suitable match!” You couldn’t help but laugh again. “For Siena, yes. For me?”

“You cannot keep your nose in those books forever! I cannot let you. Don’t you think you’ll get lonely in this big house all by yourself?”

“A marriage would simply hand over our family’s legacy to whatever man decided to sign the papers. I do not think that is what Father would have wanted.”

She rested her elbows on your legs and leaned her chin onto her palms. “ _I_ think Father would have wanted you to be happy.”

With a roll of your eyes, you shoved your poor sister out of your lap and onto the floor. She landed with a soft grunt and a flurry of skirts and immediately tried to clamber back into your arms.

Ana loved to remind you that you would be tasked with taking care of the family property once your mother passed. She had seen it as such a burden that, even as the eldest of three girls, your parents had decided she could pass on the responsibility. Siena, the youngest of the three Dean daughters, was just as enamoured with the idea of marriage as Ana was, so the future of the estate had passed to you without complaint. Their wish was to be romanced and married. Yours was stability. And with your father gone, your mother wasn’t about to keep any of you from your true wishes.

Siena was in her room, no doubt pruning and prepping for the arrival of Lord Barnes — it didn’t matter that she wasn’t the sister he was coming to visit, she had reminded you — and you did miss her presence as you and Ana shoved at each other and grappled for her letter. It was moments like this was you cherished, knowing that soon, handsome men would arrive and sweep your sisters away. Your house would be left empty of two of the most precious things you had ever beholden.

“Girls!” Your mother shouted, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You and Ana squished yourself together in the window seat. A dark carriage had begun it’s way up your drive.

“ _Girls_!” She shouted again. “Come down here!”

You and Ana raced out of her bedroom and down the long staircase. Both out of breath by the time you reached the bottom, you clutched each other.

Your mother and Siena stood side by side, their arms crossed. They were mirrors of each other, their coiled hair pinned into place and eyebrows furrowed in distaste.

Siena turned her nose up at your giggling, but you could see a glint of playfulness in her eye. Though she tried to appear sophisticated, her twelve-year-old spirit wasn’t easily quelled, much to your mother’s dismay.

“Are you sure you’re ready to get married, sister?” Siena’s voice was soft, more like silk than sound.

“He hasn’t proposed yet. You needn’t be so serious.” She skated over to Siena and wrapped her arms around her sister’s middle, swinging her around.

“And when the Lord Barnes proposes, Ana will be quick to get ready. Just you watch.” Your mother winked at you before grabbing Ana’s arm, pulling her off Siena. “They are about to arrive. Go look presentable.” She shooed both your sisters towards the front doors before limping along behind them.

Mister Kirk, your family’s butler, stood off to one side. He was a thin man, the grey hair atop his head so thick that it looked as thought he might topple over at a moment’s notice.

You nodded your head to him. “Thank you for the work you’ve done setting up for our guest, Mr. Kirk.”

“It _is_ my job, Miss Dean.” He said softly. Your sisters would have teased you about the fondness in Mister Kirk’s face had they been there, but the opening of the front doors had thoroughly distracted them. “And it is guests, Miss. More than just Lord Barnes is set to join us for the summer.”

You cocked your head but didn’t dare say more. It must have been a new development. Why else would your mother not share this with you?

You didn’t wait for Mister Kirk to elaborate, heading towards the open doors of your home.

The carriage pulled up right in front of the steps. A footman hopped down from the back of the carriage, setting a stool out before opening the door.

Lord Finneas Barnes stepped out of his carriage, grinning up at your family. “Hello Ladies Dean!” He called, waving grandly.

You all curtsied, a chorus of ‘Hello Lord Barnes’ causing his smile to widen further. “There’s no need for the formalities. Please. Call me Finn.”

Everything about him was refined, down to the buckles of his shoes. His dark hair had been done in waves, tight to his head, giving him the impression of wearing a crown. And he walked like it. His smile was sweet, but everything else about him oozed boldness and masculinity.

You could have sworn Ana nearly swooned beside you. A curious mischief glittered behind her eyes.

When you looked back to the carriage, another figure was stepping through the door.

The stranger tossed his head, his thick curls bouncing back away from his eyes to reveal his sharp features. He was dressed in blue, clearly a military uniform. Various pins on the front of his coat winked in the sunlight. His dark eyes quickly took in your family waiting on the steps and his dark eyes stalled when he reached you. Mouth quirking in a slight smile that had your heart racing, his gaze passed on.

The two men ascended the steps. Your mother curtsied again, the rest of you following behind her.

You could not take your eyes off the mysterious gentleman.

“This is General Dameron, I presume?” Your mother asked.

“The one and only,” Lord Barnes boasted, clapping the gentleman — General Dameron — on the back.

The General bowed. “Thank you for hosting us while the Barnes estate is renovated, Lady Dean. Your invitation for me to join Finn here was the best surprise I’ve had since the Coast.”

The Coast. You vaguely remembered hearing about the war from the girls in town last summer. They’d had brothers and fathers go to fight — and come back victorious, if your memory served you — but as your household was of only girls, you hadn’t been particularly invested in the news of battles that did not impact your family.

“It’s not a problem.” You heard your mother say.

Ana griped your arm, viciously whispering, “He’s quite handsome,” before dragging you back into the house.

You glanced back over your shoulder at the General and your mother politely discussing something — the topic of conversation could have been the weather for all you heard of it. It was as if your ears had been stuffed with cotton.

The General’s dark eyes met yours again and your breath caught. You tore your gaze away, snapping your head around to face forward.

It would be the last you’d see of him for the rest of the day.


	2. gold rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (don't tell tumblr but y'all are seeing this first) 
> 
> chapter warnings: possible second hand embarrassment; the reader is a super unreliable narrator so Poe isn't ooc, he's just being ✨perceived ✨

You didn’t see General Dameron or Lord Barnes until dinner that night.

They’d been busy moving their things in. Two more carriages had arrived shortly after the men, but they were mostly carrying Lord Barnes’ staff. With the grandeur of his presence, you were surprised at how little his servants had to carry into your home.

It did make you happy to see that he was keeping those loyal to his father employed through the renovation of his home. You had discussed the very topic at length with Mister Kirk, who had informed you just how easily those servant jobs can be lost.

And how difficult it could be to regain them.

You couldn’t imagine not having your staff with you. Your Ladies Maid, Char, had been the only new edition to your household that you could remember since Siena had been born. You were one big family. They were paid, certainly, but family all the same. No one else had been around through grieving your father’s death. No uncles, no aunts. But the people that had looked after your family since before you were born had been there every step of the way.

At the very top of the staircase you had tumbled down with Ana only hours earlier was a large circular landing, branching off into two halls. The western wing held your sisters’ bedrooms, yours, and the room your mother had moved into in her grief.

The eastern wing was seldom used these days. Since your father had passed, it had been empty except for the staff and your rare journeys to your father’s study for records and estate paperwork. It was perfect for your guests, separate enough from the rest of your family that your eldest sister’s virtue could be ensured without having to turn away the Lord of the land you lived upon.

He would be quite the match for her indeed, if he could get around to actually proposing.

Though you knew that you should have been focusing on Lord Barnes and how best to nudge him in your sister’s direction, your thoughts returned to the General.

You wondered how he was filling his time before dinner. You’d offered them a tour — well, Mister Kirk had offered them a tour on your behalf — but they’d both declined. Perhaps their trip had been long. Ana had not mentioned where they had been voyaging from. It could have been far. Lord Barnes had a few homes. The men in town had said as much when you’d been not-eavesdropping at one of the spring balls.

Only to assure yourself and your mother that Ana would be kept and cared for when they did marry.

Fussing with your hair could only provide distraction for so long. Sat at your vanity, you fiddled with brushes and clips and jewelry that Char had so neatly arranged that morning. Your room was beautiful, smaller than your eldest sisters and made smaller still by the shelves you’d insisted on lining the walls and packing with books. There was no shortage of beautiful trinkets, littered among the stacks of paper. Among your favourites, a bronze compass your father had gifted you and a necklace that had belonged to a distant grandmother you’d never met that appeared more like water droplets than stones.

Every time you allowed your eyes to wander, you could see the General gazing back. Your short glimpse of him had cemented itself in your memory, not allowing you a moment of respite.

He had to know how handsome he was to walk the way he did. Never mind how short your interaction was. You’d seen enough.

Another beautiful man, not unlike the Lord Barnes. The money, the fame behind his title and his bloody victory, meant nothing to you.

But there was something about those eyes…

Perhaps your sisters’ company would distract you.

Before you’d fully registered your decision to move, you found yourself out of your bedroom and at the bottom of the stairs. Your sisters and mother loitered in front of the dining room, chattering amongst themselves.

You slid in between Siena and Ana, linking your arms with theirs. “Are we awaiting something?”

Ana bumped her forehead into your shoulder. “You, silly. Shall we sit. Chef said she was almost finished with supper.”

Your mother opened up the doors to the dining room. This was one room that you were truly proud to inherit. Since you were of an age to sit up without assistance, you’d all sat at the same table. Your grubby hands had smudged across it’s surface. You’d traced the curved edge with the end of a fork at more than one of your father’s terrible business dinner meetings. It was as much of an heirloom than anything else your parents could leave you.

You sat first, at the head of the table opposite your mother as you had since your father had vacated his seat. Your sisters joined you in their chairs with their backs to the window, Siena closest to you.

She leaned across the corner of the table, whispering behind her hand, “How old do you reckon the General is?”

With a roll of your eyes, you whispered back, “Too old for you, dear sister.”

As if summoned, the man himself walked through the door with the Lord Barnes in tow. The General was no longer in a military uniform but a loose white shirt, the sleeves unbound. Barnes was dressed, jacket buttoned and hat tucked under his arm. Truly opposites.

To your dismay, the General sat beside you, leaving the seat next to your mother to Barnes.

“Thank you for joining us, gentleman.” Your mother lifted her wine glass to them, and you followed her lead.

As your servants set your meals in front of you, Lord Barnes broke the silence. “I must say, Miss Dean,” The title caught your attention, though he had directed it to Ana, “It is refreshing to see you after so long of reading your words. Though it was a necessary evil, I have needed to gaze upon you for some time.”

He was _bold._ So quick to flatter, and in front of your mother, no less. But you weren’t afforded the time to process his words before the General was cutting in. 

“A need, you say?” He echoed. “You aren’t perhaps attempting to rewrite Shakespeare, are you, Finn?” The Lord shot an amused look to his companion, who continued, “Does the line not go something like, ‘So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground’?”

Your mother and Siena both sighed, as if you were the only one that could see the General’s clear attempt to flaunt his abilities. It seemed he was determined to be as infuriating as he was beautiful. And you simply would not have that in your home, disrupting your sister’s love.

“Did you have a lot of time to study literature while on the front lines, General?” You asked sweetly, glaring daggers across your plate. “Or was your time spent reading in an office far from the dying cries of your men?”

Your mother politely engaged Lord Barnes in a conversation as the General’s eyes flared. “I studied classics in school, Miss Dean. I can assure you, though I am a few years removed from my education, I do believe I remember the details of my years of study.”

“Did you attend a private school before joining the military, General? It would be a shame if your father had paid good money for you to quote sonnets on the battlefield.” Siena kicked you under the table but nothing could distract you from the fire behind the General’s eyes.

“I did, though it was of my own merit, not my father’s coin.”

“Lord Barnes!” Siena said loudly, forcing you to keep quiet as the rest of the table fell silent. “How long was your journey today? I don’t think you said.”

“A few hours. And please, do call me Finn. I think that we will all be getting to know each other quite well in the next little while and I must admit I am not used to the title, even after a year.”

“Then we shall.” Ana’s sweet voice broke you out of your anger. The way she gazed at Finn would have stoked the flames if not for how truly happy you were for her. 

Siena perked up as she discovered a way to insert herself into the discussion. “Do you have a favourite, General? Of the writers you studied?”

“The King himself, of course. Shakespeare. I couldn’t possibly pick another. Do you know of another writer that can so excellently balance the comic and the tragic, Miss Dean?” He addressed you, causing Siena to slump down in her seat. “For if you do, I certainly would not mind a recommendation. This summer shall be long without anything stimulating to discuss.”

“Oh General, don’t get her started on the greeks!” Siena faked a swoon, the back of her hand pressed to her brow as she deflated in her chair. “She truly won’t stop chattering if you do.”

The light behind his eyes shifted, the defensive fire from before becoming a curious simmer. “You’re well read.”

You chuckled unbecomingly into your wine. “You sound so surprised, General. Is it more shocking that I am beautiful or that I am a woman, as well as educated?”

Evidently taken aback, he took a moment to compose himself before responding, “I will admit that while both of those traits may make you… distracting, Miss Dean, they do not surprise me. I simply expected the future matron of these grounds to be more focused on her people, rather than a man’s education.”

“Are you accusing me of neglecting my duties, General Dameron?” Your sharp tone silenced the room.

He seemed as if he might be ill over the table before quickly recovering. In a soft voice, he said, “Of course not, Miss Dean.”

His grovelling could not quell the need in your gut to put him in his place. “I would hope not. Though I understand that perhaps the concept is foreign to a _man_ such as yourself, women are more than capable of a trick known as multitasking.”

With a small, apologetic smile into his soup, the General ducked his head.

A rush of untapped power surged in you at his bowed head. You breathed deeply to keep from further injuring him, taking a bite of the soup in front of you.

It tasted of nothing. Chef had rarely disappointed in the years she’d worked for your family, so you were certain it must be you. The sourness of your exchange had need to be cleansed from your palate, perhaps.

A trip to Father’s study would do just the trick. And while you were there, you could brush up on your reading to ensure you were thoroughly prepared on the next occasion the General dared to test you.

“I do believe I am finished.” You pushed your seat back, standing and sweeping from the room without so much as a backward glance.

***

You clutched your skirts in one hand to keep from tripping as you ascended the long staircase that lead you up to your room, your nose in your book. The house was quiet. After your outburst at dinner, it couldn’t have been terribly comfortable to stay seated in that room.

Mrs Wex had not yet extinguished the candles that lined the hall, which left you to navigate in their dull glow. It wasn’t needed. You could have found your way to the room that had been yours since you were a child in the pitch dark. Or asleep. Or bound and barely able to move.

The violent thought was enough to stop you in your tracks. Perhaps it was time to put the books away and get some rest.

You turned down the hallway to the west wing, tucking your book under your arm. It was one that you’d read enough times to open and begin at any place without really missing any of the story, so you weren’t terribly worried about marking down the page number.

A shadow at the end of the hallway moved.

You didn’t have a chance to raise your book up to defend yourself or scream before the shadow held out his hands and stepped into the candlelight. “Miss Dean, it’s me.”

Your hand flew to your throat. “ _General Dameron,_ ” The words were breathier than you intended, but you pressed on, whisper-shouting, “What exactly do you think you are doing?!”

The General’s sharp features stood out in the wavering light. His hands trembled. Quickly, he straightened himself and let his hands drop. “I was…” He glanced over his shoulder, back down the long hallway. You followed his gaze and noticed your door ajar. “I was searching for a servant. I hadn’t noticed how late it was, so I took care of my task myself.”

Before you could comment on the strange ‘coincidence’ of your room’s disturbance, you realized how close you were standing to him. Your gaze traced down the column of his throat, to the collar of his shirt that he had left unbutton, exposing his chest.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to look into his eyes. “It is not proper, General Dameron, for us to be alone together.”

He bowed, stepping away from you as if his proximity was the offending matter, not his presence itself. “I shall leave you then, Miss Dean. Goodnight.” With a slight duck of his head, he walked quickly to the end of the hall with his hands clutched tightly behind his back.

You gazed after him. He was a curious man, confident and near-boastful one moment, and almost shy the next. It certainly was not becoming of a General, who you would have more likely assigned the former description. It would not inspire confidence in men for them to witness their leader so bashful in the presence of a woman.

Once he was surely out of range, you entered your room. Everything was as it should be, nothing disturbed, aside from a folded square of parchment sitting atop the covers of your bed.

You unfolded it. The ink was still drying, but through the smudges, you read:

_Dear Esteemed Host,_

_On behalf of my colleague and friend, Lord Barnes—_

In the margins, he had scrawled: _Would he be as insistent on being address as Finn in the written form? I suppose we will not ever know._

You continued on reading.

_On behalf of myself and my colleague and friend, Lord Barnes, I thank you for your most gracious invitation to reside with you for this tumultuous time in our lives. Though your mother is the owner of this property, I understand from your wonderful staff that it is you that truly manages the grounds, while your mother looks after your sisters, so I thought a formal thanks to be required._

_I also think an apology is in order for my behaviour at dinner._

You had never known a man to apologize. For anything. You sat in the shock for a moment before returning to the letter.

_I had not intended to offend, though I do believe this was the result of my actions. I truly look forward to further opportunity to hear of your studies and perhaps share some of what I have learned, should you wish to hear of it._

_Your humble servant,_

_General Poe Dameron_

You hadn’t known his name. Poe. He’d scrawled the characters messily, perhaps through force of habit. It fit somehow, warm on your tongue as you whispered his name into the night air.

Perhaps you could entertain his questioning. It couldn’t truly hurt. Could it?


	3. sparks fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: very very slight dom!reader vibes (1/3 of my beta readers suggested this so like it's not super apparent but I didn't wanna just skip it); tension; second hand embarrassment

Poe did not attend breakfast the next morning.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. It’s not like you could very well ask him why he decided sneaking into your room in the dead of night was appropriate in front of your mother and your staff, even if he had come.

But your questions nagged at you. Had he known that you were out in another part of the house? Had he expected to find you in bed? What would he have done? He couldn’t very well have come into your room. That wouldn’t be proper.

Not that you were worrying about your prospects. It wouldn’t matter if you were untouched if you were never going to marry.

Not that he’d ever—

As you jolted yourself out of your thoughts, you kicked up, sending Ana’s cup careening off the table. Finn managed to catch it before it hit the ground, which your mother applauded. As if that was some trick of magic and not pure luck.

Ana batting her eyes at him and the way he softly smiled was enough for you to keep your mouth shut, if only barely. The men in your home were here to ensure Ana and Finn were married. And quickly.

You’d returned to your room after breakfast, claiming an entirely false headache before shutting yourself in for the day. Retrieving the note from under your pillow, you read over his words again.

_Your humble servant._

Humble, indeed. So humble he dared to insult your mother and your household by not showing up to his first breakfast in your home.

You traced over the curl of his name. _Poe._ It was strange, how fitting it was. Gentle. Like the slope of his neck…

Crumpling the letter in your hand, you stuffed it back beneath your pillow and lay atop it. It seemed the General did not need to be in your presence to be needling away at your patience.

You retrieved an old copy of one of your father’s favourite novels, intending to distract yourself from the handsome stranger and dive into a well-loved tale. Running your fingertips along the edge of the cover, you squinted your eyes in an attempt to focus.

You read the same sentence over and over. It was as if your mind had refused to cooperate.

A change of scenery. That should do the trick.

With your book tucked under your arm, you snuck out of your room and made for the drawing room on the first floor. The couch in the corner had a beautiful view of the mountains…

A view that had been thoroughly obstructed by one General’s large, curly, unkept head.

Ana sat across from him, and Finn beside them both at one of the smaller card tables in the centre of the room. Lord Barnes spread out a group of playing cards in one hand and leaned over to fan Ana with them, making her giggle.

Slowly, you began to back out of the room, but your sister caught your eye before you could escape.

“Sister! Come sit!” Ana patted the stool beside her. “We can play as teams! That would be much more fun.”

Lord Barnes stood and gestured across the table to the empty seat. “Miss Dean. If you would be so kind as to join us.”

You approached the table as you would a rabid animal. The General stood slowly, as if in pain, though he straighten the moment his eyes found you.

“Miss Dean,” He sounded surprised. Did he find it odd that you would frequent your own drawing room?

Perhaps he was not as educated as he claimed.

At least he was now dressed. His dark coat was fully buttoned, his teasing sliver of chest from the night before thoroughly covered.

“General Dameron,” You bowed your head slightly, only enough to be polite. “I trust you slept well?”

He had the decency to look embarrassed, though he recovered much too quickly for your liking. “I must apologize for my absence this morning. It was a late night.”

Something glittered in his eyes that had you casting your gaze to the ground. There was a darkness to him that you refused to allow yourself to examine, no matter how much it may intrigue you.

You allowed him to push in your chair, though you did not take the hand offered to help you sit, however tempting the warmth of his skin may be.

“Well, what are we playing?”

Finn quickly dealt out playing cards. The game was a simple race to 23 points. Ana and the General played on one team, with you and Finn on the other. You angled yourself as to not brush elbows with the General, though it seemed you could not avoid his gaze, which brushed it’s way over your form as one would brush away fallen leaves. A nuisance, but somehow necessary.

“Where is your other sister? Siena, is it?” The General asked in a lull of conversation.

“With her governess, mostly likely.” Ana answered simply.

The General’s eyebrows shot up his face and you muffled a snort.

“I had not realized she was so young.”

You had more than a handful of things to say if the General had the intention of courting your sister, but Ana beat you to it.

“She is a sweet girl.”

“As most children are.” You followed up, not needing to meet your sister’s gaze to know her intentions.

As much as you differed on your expectations for your futures and the way you saw the world, you and Ana had never once disagreed about Siena. She insisted on growing up too quickly and your mother, in her age and grief, did not have the keen eye she once kept on her two eldest daughters. Even for her clear favourite.

So it was up to you and Ana to look after her, down to ensuring her hems were taken down and her governess reported to you both in secret.

You paid her handsomely to do so and her bore concerns of her own. It wasn’t as if she was going to refuse.

You caught on to the game quickly. Finn was a good partner, keeping up with your quick changes in strategy with such a keen eye that you could have sworn he was reading your mind.

He made you laugh a few times, breaking you out of the overcast mood that the General’s presence put you in.

He’d be a good match for Ana. You were certain of that.

Eventually, his good-naturedness and Ana’s swooning over him relaxed you enough to engage the General in polite conversation.

He asked after your favourite novels and you listed a few obscure titles that he certainly could not have studied. When he admitted as much, you gave him some grace and engaged him on his knowledge of Shakespeare.

“Well, Romeo and Juliet is of course the greatest love story ever told, so I have studied it at length.”

Finn clapped him on the back and leaned across the table as if to tell you a secret. “This one is _quite_ the romantic.”

You rolled your eyes and Finn guffawed, leaning back so far in his chair that you were afraid it might break. He laughed with his whole body, oozing a confidence and joy into the room that you hoped he might bring to his relationship with your sister.

The General cleared his throat. Embarrassment looked good on him. He was a much smaller man without his bravado lifting his chin so high. There was something… sweet, almost, about him.

As he ducked his head, you noticed what appeared to be a bit of a feather stuck in his hair.

You set your cards on the table and started to reach out, but hesitated at the last moment. Hands clutched to your chest, you giggled, “General, you have a bit of…”

The small bit of fluff bounced as he shook his head in an attempt to free it. His curls flew out like wings, but it didn’t release itself.

“Let me.” You reached forward, tipping Poe’s face up with two gentle fingers beneath his chin. At your touch, his lips parted in a small breath that had heat rising to your face faster than you could combat it. You plucked the white fibre from his curls and carefully swept them back into place before leaning away and letting him go.

The way his throat bobbed with shallow breaths did not evade you.

“There,” you whispered, returning to your cards. Your face burned, but you did not meet his eyes. “Fixed.”

Ana loudly cleared her throat. “Lord Barnes, I believe it is your turn.”

You glanced up at Finn. He had hidden his mouth behind his cards, though it did little to hide the amusement shining in his eyes.

This was a plan, a scheme of theirs. Boys. _Children._

A plan to embarrass you.

Surely.

It had to be.

Ana gripped your thigh, as if anticipating you would stand and excuse yourself. “Lord Barnes—” she paused and corrected herself, “Finn, if you would be so kind as to make your next move.”

The game continued on for some time, but the tension didn’t lessen. Ana and Finn flirted in your peripheral vision but you couldn’t concentrate on anything but Poe. Ana had to remind you to take your turns and Finn groaned about some of your choices, but you weren’t really paying enough attention to even try to defend yourself. Every slight movement of Poe’s, a swallow or slight widening of his knees, had you flushed and near-panting.

The game couldn’t end quick enough. You did not meet Poe’s gaze again, even as he helped you out of your chair.

You made the mistake of taking his hand. His palm was soft, his fingers rough against yours. Though the touch was brief, it made you shiver when he let you go and took a respectful step back.

“Thank you,” you breathed before sweeping from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this part!! this chapter was supposed to have three more scenes but I decided to break them up into two parts so you'll be getting another update soon!!
> 
> (also you're seeing this before tumblr again but don't tell them)


	4. wildest dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: light humiliation; title kink; fingering; a single spank; fem!masturbation; bruising during sex mentioned; this chapter is basically one long sex scene

"Good girl."

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pulled you against him. One hand cradled your head lightly as the other worked its way under your skirts, tracing up the inside of your thigh to your centre. You were soaked through from the second he touched you, trembling for him. You moaned as he played your body like an instrument with every chord memorized.

Poe’s breath, hot on her neck. “ _Miss Dean_ ,” he scolded, “I’ve barely gotta touch you to get you wet for me."

You gripped his shirt, hips jerking into his palm as he dipped his fingers between your folds. “Poe…” you gasped, head tilted back. “Please?” It was a whine, low and full of need.

Your clothes disappeared. Knees on the bed, completely spread open for him, dripping with his cum. He smiled, urging your thighs apart with his hands.

You gasped, “General. More. _Please_...”

He leaned down, kissing your ass lightly. His hand replacing his lips with a solid smack, hard enough to bring a little bit of flush to your skin.

*

You shot up straight in bed, clutching your damp sheets to your chest.

Your room was empty, the curtains drawn, exactly as it had been when you’d fallen asleep the night before. You were still fully dressed. And clean, aside from a light sheen of sweat that glued your sheets to you.

The General was nowhere to be found.

As he should be. It would be highly inappropriate for him to be there with you. In the middle of the night. Alone.

Doing unspeakable things to you.

It might be better if you avoided reading from your secret collection of romance novels right before bed.

Something crinkled beneath you. From under your hip, you retrieved the General’s first letter. Once again, you found yourself tracing over the curve of his name.

_Poe._

Dinner that night had been uneventful. The General had attempted to snag your attention on two occasions (which you politely but quickly dismissed) before seeming to give up. He had nearly sulked through the rest of the meal. Quite unbecoming behaviour for a supposed General.

It bothered you more than you wanted to admit, how quickly he’d abandoned trying to win your attention. In two short days, you’d gotten very used to the way he’d vie for a simple look from you. You squirmed in your discomfort, laying down and shoving the letter back beneath your pillow.

Visions of him had plagued you since Char had left for the night. You could still feel the way his calloused hand had brushed against yours. Nothing you did could shake it loose. He was so warm… almost as warm as the feeling between your legs.

You began counting your breaths in your head. Hands fisting the sheets, you tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable.

Without truly considering the implications of it, you let your hand snake down your body, pressing into the warmth between your legs.

Immediately, you relaxed down into your sheets, your discomfort momentarily eased by the quick brush of your fingers. But the heat returned, and with it came the wave of need you’d found yourself floating in right before you’d awoken.

You needed to sleep. Your mother had asked to meet with you early and she’d fear for your health if you weren’t well rested.

Hiking up your skirt, you let your fingertips trace over your clit once more. 

It couldn’t hurt. You’d get to sleep. Finally. Maybe his piercing gaze would be blunted if you indulged, just for a moment.

When you closed your eyes, his dark ones bore down into yours. You could almost feel the light brush of his lips over your cheek. Your jaw. Your neck. The way his hands would grip your hips. The bruises his fingers might leave behind.

Curling your fingers the way you imagined he would, you pinched your lips together to keep your moans quiet. In your dreams, he wanted you loud. In your dreams, you’d sneak around and risk getting caught. You’d travel to a town far away, pretend to be a duchess and a prince both hiding from their responsibilities. For a night, it wouldn’t matter than you shouldn’t be together. That you shouldn’t think of him like this. Together, you could escape.

As you clenched around your own fingers, you whimpered into the back of your hand. His name escaped, a soft confession into the night air.

Laying in your damp sheets, you caught your breath. You weren’t sure how you were going to face Poe in the morning.

Sleep stole you from your thoughts of duty, whisking you into another dream about a dark haired General, as if your sin had opened a door you now didn’t know how to close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy international fanworks day!! thank you guys for all the love you've been giving this fic. i hope you know i read your comments like daily. i know this chapter had like zero plot in it but we're getting into lots of new themes in the next one!!! it's halfway done so hopefully i can get it to y'all soon!
> 
> this is the first time i've written a fic with a complete outline and im just so excited for you guys to see what happens next


	5. mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: a fight; some yelling; thoughts of the events of the previous chapter that are not PG (slightly religious coded)

You woke and dressed without so much as a single thought entering your mind. Char nattered on about various upcoming social events as she assisted you, but not even one date stuck in your mind. 

You were to see your mother, after which you would lock yourself in your room for the remainder of the day as you attempted to rid your mind of the images you’d conjured for yourself under the cover of the past night. Whatever she wanted, you were sure you could answer with a few ‘yes, mama’s. It would all be over soon. 

Char escorted you to your mother’s room and opened the door for you before disappearing down the dark servant’s staircase. 

Your mother was still wrapped in a robe and sat at her desk, her delicate hands wrapped around a steaming teacup. 

“Mama?” You said quietly from the door. 

She turned slowly, as if in a trance. “Oh hello.” In the morning light, she looked years younger. Had you not recognized her poise, you could have almost mistaken her for Siena. “The General came by to see me last night,” she said, returning her gaze to something out the window. “He asked if we had plans for you.” 

It took you a moment to process what she had said. 

You were immediately on the defensive. “I do have plans for me.” 

“Plans change.” She said it so calmly and simply that you could have been debated the placement of her flower arrangements. As if you weren’t discussing wasn’t your entire life. 

“My plans are not changing. I’m not marrying a man I just met, Mama.” You crossed your arms. 

You knew you were acting like a petulant child, but that didn’t stop you from quite literally stopping your feet as you headed towards the door. 

“You do not need to marry him right now, my dear.” Her soft voice calmed your hot head. “But if you were to give him permission to court you, perhaps someday—” 

“ _No._ ” You stalked your way back towards her. “I will not be giving up our property and _my_ father’s legacy to just anyone. Life isn’t a bedtime story where a good man can mysteriously show up and carry me off like some kind of fairytale.To even make me consider it, a man would have to rival my intelligence and be someone whom I could trust and who could be a good father and— and…” You saw red. “And someone who isn’t certainly a _scoundrel_ and with bouncy hair and a flashy military title.”

Had you been even a year younger and wagged your finger at her in this way, she would have threatened to take it off. Your father’s death had changed more than any of you would ever admit. 

“His title would earn you respect. You would be a General’s wife.” 

“I will earn their respect all on my own.” 

“They have never respected a spinster.” 

“Then I will be the first.” 

You ran out of the room, straight into Poe. 

The both of you tumbled to the ground. Scrambling back on your hands, your head and shoulders collided hard with the wall. 

“I’m so sorry, Miss Dean.” 

You flattened yourself against the wall to escape from his outstretched hand. 

“Eavesdropping is not an honourable look for you, General Dameron.” Your cutting words fell flat. 

“I wasn’t—” 

You didn’t let him finish, collecting yourself and nearly sprinting to the end of the hall and down the stairs. 

You overheard both Mister Kirk and Poe calling after you but you didn’t stop running. Out the front doors. Down the long drive. Into the ditch beside the road that lead to town, all the way until you reached the river out of breath and covered in mud. 

Plunging your hands into the water, you tried to scrub your sins from the past night clean off your skin. Once the burning from the cold was too much to bear, you sat back on the bank of the river and tucked your knees into your chest. You wondered how long it would take to reach the ocean. For the water, who had no sense of time, you guessed it might take between the blink of an eye and a few short years. The rushing of the river was just enough to cover the sound of your racing thoughts. 

You weren’t sure how long it took Poe to find you, how long you sat there and stared at the water as it flowed on by, down the river and far away. 

He nearly slid down the short hill as he made his way through the brush to you. You heard him coming, only turning around for a brief second to confirm that it was him and not someone with decidedly worse intentions than a General who’s tact left something to be desired. 

“Miss Dean, your family is worried sick.” 

“Let them worry,” you said, looking out at the water. It took all of your concentration not to let your gaze wander to the General, to see how he might take your next words. “Sickness seems to have stolen my mother’s logical thought. Perhaps it can also bring it back.” 

You weren’t sure if the General was aware of how your father passed, and he didn’t make any motion to indicate the depth of his knowledge either. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he turned to look out at the water. “I was not anticipating that she’d share our conversation with you so soon.” 

“Haven’t you heard, General Dameron? Us ladies like to talk.” 

He ducked his head, hiding his face behind his curls. “I do acknowledge that was my own oversight, and not a fault of your dear mother’s.” 

“I do appreciate a man that can acknowledge his own faults.” Though your tone was cutting, you did mean it. His apology was a contributing factor to why his letter had plagued you so. 

“I understand that your sister and her prospects seem to be your only focus. Finn is… slow on the draw, historically, and I thought I might help your sister along to securing his proposal. With your assistance, of course.” 

“And how do you suppose I am to assist you?” 

“We lie. It will be much easier for them to find moments together if we are the ones to chaperone them.” 

If he was to be believed, you had perhaps overlooked some of his actions. “You are proposing we…” 

“Fake courting for a short time,” he finished your sentence. “That is why I spoke with your mother. It would not be believable if we were not to make it official.” 

He was smart. Much smarter than you had initially given him credit for. 

Pulling yourself out of the mud and up to your full height, you brushed your hand off as best as you could on a relatively clean part of your skirt and held it out for him. 

He looked at you as if you had two heads before slowly bending down to take your hand and pressing his lips to your knuckles. 

“No!” You yanked your hand away, swatting the top of his head before sticking it out again. “A gentlemanly handshake please, sir. We are, after all, partners now.” 

He clasped your hand, and you had to mask your shiver. Poe was just as warm as you remembered, his hands rough like working hands. His single shake before letting you go was not enough and somehow more than you could handle. 

“I suppose we are, Partner.” He grinned at you, boyish and almost sweet. 

“You are still a man and I should not be alone with you, so you will return to the top of the hill and call down to me. I will then come join you.” You sat back in the mud, giggling as it made a satisfying squelching sound. 

“Certainly, Miss Dean.” He mock-bowed before quickly trekking up the hill. You heard him yell, “Mister Kirk! I’ve found her!” 

When you stood and looked up at him, his rogue grin was wide and bright enough to be a star, guiding your way through the trees and back home. 

As you dressed for bed that night, Char knocked lightly on your door and let herself in. 

“You said you were going to sleep,” you reminded her lightly. She, too, shared a liking for a midnight stroll with a good book. It worked out well. You could both leave each other to your own devices once the day was through. 

“There’s a letter for you, Miss.” She set the folded square of parchment onto your blankets. 

“The mail doesn’t come until tomorrow morning.” 

“It wasn’t delivered by mail.” With a mischievous grin, she ran from the room. 

With the late hour, you couldn’t very well call after her. Once you were ready for bed, you padded over and climbed under your sheets before retrieving the letter. 

Your name was scrawled in a familiar, looping script on the front of the note. 

You quickly tore through the seal, opening it up to find the ink still drying. 

_Dear Partner In Secret Things,_

_I have just finished speaking to Finn. He was thrilled at our development and has proposed a promenade to town tomorrow. I hope that these last minute plans do not interrupt anything you may have to tend to tomorrow. Should they interfere, please trust that I will do anything in my power to assist you so that we may accompany your sister and my dear friend on this excursion._

_Perhaps we may have the chance to discuss the novel you were reading earlier._

Poe paid attention. Once you’d returned home, apologized to your mother, and changed out of your ruined clothes, you’d spent most of the day in the drawing room with a well-loved book. Though you didn’t remember seeing him. 

He had signed the letter in the same way as the first. _Your humble servant._

You set the letter on the table beside your bed to let the ink finish drying, and retrieved the first one out from under your pillow to join it. Laying down, you stared at the two scraps of paper. 

The General could not be a problem. You had to stick to the plan. Rolling over, you turned your back on the letters and fell into a fitful sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PLOT IS HERE!!!!!!! I love a good fake dating au and y'all had to have seen this coming given the series is bridgerton-inspired
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this! I'm loving writing this series so much and your comments really do give me the boost I need to get through editing the monster that this is turning into


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